Hands That Hold
by Introverted-Verses
Summary: A heart broken, struggling Wolverine can't find comfort in the cold mansion after Jean's death. An observant, concerned Marie can't find a way to help this stranger out of his routine. AU.
1. Chapter 1

Hey! I is back! This is short...oh, well.

Read the Author's note at the end, kay? Enjoy!

* * *

Glossy hazel eyes stared blankly at the carved rock. Rain poured down around the lone figure in the green, coating the grass in a sheen of fresh precipitation.

Water trailed down the rigid contours of the man's face, dragging his sordid raven hair into his eyes without a care. Blinking added to the consuming amount of rain dripping in his face, but he wasn't crying. He stopped being able to do that long ago.

His ever-alert eyes scanned over the deep engravings on the rock for the 64th time, reading but not believing the words pressed in the stone.

_R.I.P._

_-Jean Grey-_

He looked up to the sky, gazing into the clouds as if he could see her face again. Hear her voice in the thunder. Feel her embrace as the rain coated his body. See the spark in her eyes when the lightening crashed down away from him.

His neck arched starkly as he glared to the ground beneath his feet, the burly man clenched his fists releasing the newly stained claws, and dropped.

His knees now sopping in water and soil, his eyes tracked the lights in the building in front of him.

_Second floor, Fifth room._

_First floor, Rec. room._

_Second floor, Second room._

_Second floor, Ninth room._

_Third floor, Seventh room._

_First floor, Fourth room._

_Second floo-_

His face snapped vaguely in the direction of the clap of thunder, not caring enough to gripe about how the sound usually hurt his ears. He leaned back on his haunches, straightening his back as he turned back to the grave in front of him.

The short man's forehead creased, brows drawn, as he shut his eyes no longer able stand looking at the cursed block.

He stood, boots squeaking heavily in the wet ground.

Thunder rang through the sky as a warning toll.

He walked forward, passing the grave, a seemingly unimportant addition to the grounds.

Lightening struck above his head, no longer trying to find him as a conduit.

He pressed open the door, stalking passed giggling girls who stared after him and whining teachers who moaned about the state of the carpet.

The sky opened up over the city, shedding the tears he could not.

He went into his room, unaware of the empathetic eyes that had followed him.

* * *

Sad emerald eyes looked through the small window, watching the poor soul trudge through the rain.

She gazed restlessly as he dropped the claws from his hands and plummeted to the awaiting ground.

...as if it would swallow him up. She shifted uncomfortably at the thought, squirming at the possibility.

Her hands twirled the oddly colored strands of hair between her fingers as she stared.

She bit her lip as his eyes scanned briefly over where she was hidden in the building. He did this everyday. A monotonous routine. A drilled schedule.

Went out to the grave...Stood there hopelessly in shame...Hoped something would put him out of his misery...Went back inside and holed away in his room until dinner.

She'd been there to watch him every time.

Watching and waiting, just in case he did something stupid.

Her chest cinched painfully as his eyes swept over her spot again, not stopping.

The girl's body was racked with a small set of shivers as the memory resurfaced of the day after...you-know-who, passed.

He'd tried to kill himself. And it was a bloody, gruesome affair. You never want to see a heart broken man with a healing ability try to take his own life.

Her hands pulled her hair as she thought of it; he just about ripped his own throat out. Slicing his arms wasn't drastic or long-lasting enough.

He'd found his fix. For then.

Now what?

Now it seemed, thank God, that he was content to wallow away.

Which, by no means, was a good thing. It was just...better than the _other_ option.

The door slammed, taking her away from her thoughts of the same man who was walking past her room this very second.

She took short, shy breaths until he was further down the hall, nearly three doors, and began breathing normally.

She had never been introduced to the strange instructor, other than Scott's depiction that he was a 'Good-for-nothing, wife thief'.

And that his name was Logan.

She reflected on that.

He didn't seem like a _Logan._

Most definitely didn't mourn like a 'Good-for-nothing, wife thief'.

He mourned like a broken man with no where to turn.

And looked like a...James...

Yeah...

Yeah, that seemed about right.

* * *

Yeah, sup guys.

I don't really know what to think about this. I love it, personally. But it doesn't really seem like a _one-shot, _you know? Seems unfinished.

Should I try to continue? What do you guys think?

This was, in fact, another WRFA prompt, written in 'bout an hour, very short... _You're dead and I'm sorry / Stickers_. Maybe that's why it doesn't seem done... it doesn't have the 'stickers'...

I dunno.

Me no own da X-men...though I do seem to be having fun with them as of late.

_I-V_


	2. Chapter 2

Uh...Hey, again.

This is pretty rare. Me, having a relatively good idea, and it coming out well. And the second to it coming out pretty much the same...hmm.

Thanks for the responses last time, you three. You know who you are.

Yeah... Anyway.

Read on my lovlies!

* * *

She woke early the next morning, roused by plagued dreams turned nightmares.

It was Saturday. A do-nothing day. Or a sleep-til-Sunday day, if Alex Russo was correct.

Which, the girl mused, was actually pretty accurate, if the teens at this school were anything to go by.

The girl with the platinum stripes in her hair muddled her way to the window, staring pointlessly through the open area.

She glanced at the clock to her right, that was as far from her bed as it could be while still being plugged in. If it was too close it was too easy to turn the damned thing off then drop not-so-blissfully back to sleep. That would not do, not at all.

Her eye twitched, _11:48 a.m._

She felt her hand convulse in its place on the window sill.

How, in God's name, did she manage to sleep in this late?

The girl fumbled to the bathroom to brush her teeth, cursing the time all the way. She blinked blearily at her reflection, glaring at the porcelain skin and emerald green eyes that stared back.

_Damn you, reflective materials._

Dazedly running the brush back and forth across her teeth her eyes caught the movement of something yellow outside of her window through the mirror.

_Yellow._

She spat the disgusting foam into the sink before rinsing her mouth thoroughly with water, and faced the window. Catching the bright yellow flash again.

_Yellow._

She'd put on a pair of sandals and walked down the halls, and into the kitchen before she realized she'd left her room.

Seeing the color stalking her, the word yellow wept into her mind again, while thoughts of her favorite book series misinformed her of the colors true form.

_Bulldozer._

"Hey, chica!"

Oh, Jubilee.

She blinked at her friend and turned away to grab some cereal from the cabinet, but not before grumbling, "My eyes burn, Jubes. I think they're bleeding. Go change."

"Rogue..." Jubilee cooed mockingly, and she could practically hear her friend crack her knuckles. "You hatin' on the yellow again?"

Rogue, who was only partially listening to her friend, paused in the middle of munching on her breakfast-

-or lunch, she thought regretfully-

-nodded to her question.

"Why? Girl, yellow is the color of happines-"

"-and fat." Rogue cut in.

Jubes shivered slightly before glaring, "You know what I mean! It symbolizes good feeling, and joyous occasions."

Rogue stirred her cereal around and mumbled to herself, "Unless, of course, you live in Mexico..."

She paused to deposit her dish in the sink, not entirely noticing Jubilee's confused face as she finished her sentence, "...where it's the color of death."

The girls feud- or more like; Jubes' fuming and Rogue's tired ignorance- was interrupted by a deep chuckle from the corner of the kitchen.

Well, Rogue wondered, not really a chuckle...an amused breath, if anything.

No matter how manly, and admittedly distracting, the not-chuckle was, Rogue ruffled slightly at the fact that someone had been listening in on their conversation. And jumped back a bit at the now moving shadows.

_Holy shi-!_

She felt Jubilee's body thrum in excitement and wondered who could possibly incited such a reaction from her usually composed friend.

_If only I wasn't as blind as a bat in the mornings._

She heard him laugh to himself again and bit her bottom lip in anger. He has no right...

"You know," she began, clenching her fists. "it's rude to eavesdrop."

Privacy was not something she took lightly.

_Not after..._ She shook herself of the thought. Now's not the time.

He scoffed in their direction and she saw a steady blur shift across the room, growing larger, probably coming towards them.

He was standing just in front of her, peering down curiously, "Am I supposed to care?"

Rogue backed a step, now noticing him to be close enough to feel his breath on her face.

_Warm...Cigar tasting, breath._

"Yes," she snapped back, no longer caring about who she was arguing with.

She could practically _hear _him smirk, not smile. He didn't give that kind of vibe.

No, he was a smirker.

"Why, exactly, should I care?" His tone was mocking and caustic.

As if she were beneath him.

Some tension left her shoulders as her brain finally started to focus her eyes, but her mouth kept running while her head tried to keep up, "Because!" Rogue bridled, "It's the principle of the thing!"

The first thing her eyes zoned in on were the man's glowing hazel irises, her peripheral stilled smudged, not giving her a good enough image to recognize.

Light green flecks danced into his expressive gaze as he laughed once more, "'the principle of the thing.' You said?"

It seemed as if her brain was content with what she was seeing and promptly gave up all endeavors to complete the picture as the lower half of the face fought on. _Wimp._

"What of it?"

His eyes crinkled vaguely in some sort of sick fun, "How old_ are_ you? I haven't heard someone say that in years."

_Ah..._That question sparked a cacophony of responses to jitter the girl...

_34. Howard Mason. June 13th..._

_58. Thomas Rivers. August 5th..._

_71. Demitra Jones. July 19th..._

_17. Cody Reevs. October 24th..._

_10. Angela Themas. April 2nd..._

_33. Selina Yulet. March 28th..._

_25. Edward Sarel. June 10th..._

_14. Ri-_

Her eyes flashed briefly in pain as she gripped the hair closest to her temple. Whispering to herself, she tried to get the voices to stop. Their presences seared in her head as she rocked.

The hazel eyed man in front of her reached out to steady her as she began to sway from the noise. She saw confusion in his eyes.

Confusion.

Concern.

She blinked wearily at spots encroaching on her sight, Rogue poked one of them lightly as if to shoo it away.

Her finger was met with warm flesh and whiskers.

Her vision flashed once more, now allowing her to see the face of the man before her.

His squared jaw was covered in the dark brown -almost black- fine hairs she had touched moments before. His lips were pursed in a scowl...maybe it was a grimace.

And his eyes, they were beautiful. The grayest of greens, riddled with a pallet of other colors that complimented each other in the most perfect of ways. They sparkled in his confusion, tinging themselves in an almost aurora azure, but they were so marred with pain.

Her chest clenched for the poor man again, spots decorating the vision before black consumed her. Not for the first time.

But before she was fell through to the voices she heard Jubilee yell, "What did you do to my girl, Wolvie?"

Her mind raced with a few seconds of a puzzled peace.

_Wolvie...?_

Wolverine...?

_Logan...?_

Who-?

Ah,that's it...

_James._

And, with that, she was out.

* * *

So, I realize nothing was resolved for this _supposed_ one-shot. But I'll let this little thing take me where it will. I update on my own schedule, don't expect regular updates at all.

I was supposed to be revising my character analysis of Lennie in _Of Mice and Men._ -Great book, highly recommended- Buuuut, this called to me. So, here we are. I really should be getting back to that, huh?

Tell me how you liked it if you did. And if you read TP Talks, inform me of anything you see changed with my writings. That'd be cool.

I rambles...gaggle is a fun word. My English teacher hates the word 'moist'...that's my weird fact for the chapter.

Thanks to **Anon17**, **Guest**, and **A Pink Beast** for reviewing and showing interest, I hope you liked it.

P.S. - The book series, if you didn't get it, was _Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy _by Douglas Adams...it's my all-time favorite. Read it and Love it.

_I-V_


	3. Chapter 3

..._Uh, I don't recall having done this in the other chapters...so._

_I do not own any character relating to, or pertaining to X-Men or any of the other references I shall make. Like Douglas Adams -I love his work- X-Men belongs to Marvel. Not me. _

_Read on~!_

* * *

He woke early that morning, hearing curses coming from the room next door.

He knocked a paw heavily into the separating wall and smirked at the girl's faint shriek, sparing a glance towards his clock, he growled.

The man stood, reaching an arm around to scratch at the back of his neck.

_11 in the fucking mornin_g. Not even afternoon yet and the kids are the cause of his migraines.

Grumbling to himself he debated slamming his hand on the wall again.

Though, last time, he broke through the wall...

...and might have given the girl a miniature heart attack, but hey, served her right...being too loud. Talk about inconsiderate.

Maybe, he thought glumly, it's not worth the damage costs and the lecture from 'Ro again.

He sighed and tossed on the nearest clean shirt so he could head down to the kitchen.

Reaching the fridge he grabbed a glass and poured himself some milk.

Logan sat in wait for the kids to come down for breakfast and leave some spare lunch on their plates.

"God, look at me," he grumbled to himself, "eating leftovers like a dog."

_I really ought to learn how to cook._

So he sat on a stool in the farthest corner of the room, grimaced at the light the window let in and shut the blinds to suit his tastes. Now seated aptly in the shade the short man gulped down his glass of milk while watching the doorway.

He leaned further back into the corner as he heard light footsteps approaching the room. Moving his cup out of the light he waited in silence for the door to open.

A brow cocked at the pajama wearing girl who walked in the room, shuffling about lazily in small blue flip flops, her eyes squinting at every little thing she passed as if she had a hard time seeing them.

His hazel eyes focused on the oddly different colors of her hair as she moved around the kitchen gathering –to his disappointment- the necessary things to make a bowl of cereal.

His gaze followed her, only vaguely remembering his seeing her at team meetings...or was it Danger Room sessions.

_Well, if I saw her at meetings she's probably in the trainings, too. _He nodded to himself, accepting the answer.

He faced the door again as it shot open, chiding himself for not paying enough attention.

_Bright._

He grimaced as he took in the Firecracker's outfit, neon...everywhere.

Neon yellow.

_Why? Is this some form of torture?_

He forced himself to look away in a mocking fear of damaging his eyes.

"My eyes burn, Jubes. I think they're bleeding. Go change."The girl said, and he couldn't help but shake his head in agreement.

"Rogue..." He heard Jubilee warn.

Ah, that's her name.

_Rogue._

Once again his eyes were attracted to the white stripes of hair she was brushing out of her face.

_Seems fitting._

Logan sat at the corner table, content to listen to their conversation until someone who could cook came in to eat lunch.

He smirked, amused, as the girl –Rogue, he corrected- told Jubilee the meaning of yellow in Mexico.

Huffing a laugh, he tried to choke it down just as soon as it started. It seems he muffled himself a second too late because soon after, the two were looking in his general direction.

He felt the corner of his lip twitch up when he saw the affronted expression on Rogue's face as she realized someone was in the kitchen with them. Jubilee, he noticed, was practically bouncing in excitement for reasons he couldn't place.

He stood to walk towards the two, stare focused entirely on Rogue, who was again squinting, cheeks now flushed in embarrassment.

Or anger. They always gave a girl similar colors.

She huffed an annoyed breath –anger, it is- as she tried to see him in the dark, ruffling her hair in the process.

_Cute,_ a voice piped in his head.

He chuckled again, shaking his head at the thought.

She bit her lip and his eyes tracked the motion.

_Not cute..._

Logan watched her take a breath before she began to speak. "You know, it's rude to eavesdrop."

_Sassy._

He closed the space between them, standing close enough that he could feel her breathing on his chest as he looked down to her.

Logan noticed the dazed look she was giving him and couldn't resist taunting her, "Am I supposed to care?"

He grinned mentally as she took a step back trying to gain some distance and shook herself slightly.

"Yes," she drawled shifting her eyes over his features, scrunching up her own in confusion. Almost in a pout.

_Very green eyed, cutesy faced po- _He clenched his eyes shut.

What was he doing? Jean, Jean. You know, that woman you were so pining after. Yeah, her.

_Hasn't been _that _long, buddy..._

He felt his own breath catch as their eyes met.

They were a greyish green, as soulful as the music they played where she came from –Mississippi, right? Southern...like that Sam kid.- The striking color was marred by the fogging her puzzlement and obvious sight issues had caused.

_Not sassy..._

Brows raised, he finally realized that she couldn't really see him. He grinned as her face composed itself into a self-frustrated pout when she scowled and squinted again.

_So..._he thought, _she doesn't know who I am, does she?_

He should leave, really he should. Ignore the sassy, not-cute girl, grumble at the Firecracker, and just leave.

But, he was having way too much fun with this.

_Poor, kid. _"Why, exactly, should I care?"

"Because, it's the principle of the thing!"

_The principle of th- _Oh, this was just too good.

How long has it been since someone had bothered to argue with him? Even Scooter had started his own little passive aggressive binge, leaving him in a desperate need of a verbal sparring partner.

_Heh, scratch that, spirited _and_ sassy._

Keeping her gaze, now well aware of her vision impairment, he started to laugh again at the ridiculousness of the situation, "'The principle of the thing.' You said?"

"What of it?" Her hand was propped on her hip as she glared back at him defensively, he didn't even think she was aware she was doing it.

He smiled, surprising himself with the motion, as he fought to continue to banter, "How old _are _you? I haven't heard someone say that in years."

Not ten seconds later he saw her irises lull into themselves as she seemed to lose herself in her thoughts. Barely registering the Firecracker's gasp, he reached out instinctively to brace the girl as she swayed heavily on her feet.

She prodded at his face momentarily, feeling his beard and the skin on his cheeks before dropping her hand and lolling to the right daftly.

_Soft..._

Her eyes blinked drowsily as she attempted to stay conscious, but he knew her fight was over as she drew in a deep breath and went limp.

He remembered hearing Jubilee yell something at him.

Obviously unimportant. Obviously.

Though, he _was _carrying her unconscious best friend...so, maybe it was.

He lifted her sagging body into his arms looking at her fitful face in confusion as Jubilee ushered him to the elevator towards the Med lab.

The Firecracker called for Hank in her fit of mass hysteria, panting and freaking out as if her friend had fallen into an irreversible coma.

Well, he's never actually had this happen before...sure, people have swooned over him more than once, but he's never had the whole, eyes rolling into back of head in pain fainting thing...

He looked back at Rogue contemplatively, a mask of indifference covering his concern for the strange girl on the slab in front of him.

_She's gonna wake up, right?_

* * *

_Heeey! Wazzup?_

_Thanks to all of my delightful reviewers and people who favorited and subscribed to my story. Much appreciated. So, please do it again...you know you want to. Mh-mh, yup-yup-yup._

_Anyway, this has been moved from a '_one-shot' _to a multi-chapter project. Rejoice my friends, rejoice._

_If any of you have any questions, comments, or concerns about this don't hesitate to ask. I love questions...fuuun._

_Fact- My sub today in FFA taught music for 30 years. Sweeet. He's the bestest sub ever. So cool...wish he actually taught one of my classes._

_So...How's your day been?_


	4. Chapter 4

All different voices and projections, separate tones from the same source. A heavy ricochet she couldn't stand. A painful cadence against her temples, a beat on a bass with a annoying accompaniment that never ended.

24/7.

All day, all night. During conversations, in the middle of meals, while she was asleep.

Why. How. Where. Who. You. Me. Memories. Pain. Nostalgia- not the good kind.

The thought shifted into a dark scene, not as unpleasant.

There was a jazzy sort of tune drifting away into the background, it origin still unformed in the landscape. A hazy crowd of people beckoned towards them all around, fuzzy and deeply colored trinkets and instruments were sprawled around in each individual little cubbyhole for all people the peruse.

She felt the vague touches to her side, soft and lulling at first as if to pull her into the display, show her the merchandise, that turned prickling and morbid.

Why. How. Where. Who...

Her body thrashed around and she could make out what could be assumed as restraints on her limbs, keeping her down.

Trapped.

She blinked. Pressure. Cold.

So much pressure. She couldn't shiver...maybe that was just more thrashing...because it was so cold.

Yes, cold. Cold and damp.

A horrifyingly freezing temperature that she thinks it supposed to be concerning splashes heavily onto her body, drenching her in a sticky liquid—sweat? No, too cold for swe-

Her thoughts and movements were jumbled as she rocketed forward, jumping as fast as she could off of the cold, metallic tray. No sympathy for the bed that had become a home over the past few years.

...Or a facsimile of one, at least.

Her eyes blinked open slightly being quickly shut as the florescent lights blinded her. Regaining her usual blurred sight, she tears at her arm in an attempt to get the long prickly needle from her flesh as soon as humanly possible.

She didn't exactly want to come back to the infirmary for ripping _medicine_ from her body, did she?

No, sir.

Her eyes were still coated in a foggy sheen, unclear from the catnap—18 hours, give or take. Her ears, lagging light-years behind her body, were still stuck on the gasp that fell from her mouth the moment she had awoken.

She was forced to stop dead in her tracks, nearly being knocked back into unconsciousness as she did so. Her face was brutally rammed into a heavy boned body, she was rocked backwards into a chair—placed conveniently well. Most of the time she ends up tripping over it.-

Not two steps from the bed and she was already caught.

Must've been a new record.

It had become a habit of hers to run from the Med lab the second she realized where she was. Not that she tried to make a habit out of finding herself in situations where the Bay was needed, but...

Shit happens.

She gripped the edge of the bed and chair trying to steady herself as she landed haphazardly on the plastic furniture.

_Ah, God. My butt._

"Hank," she whined. "You know I hate it down here...Why do you insis-"

"Sorry to disappoint." A scraggly voice rumbled from above her, soundly utterly insincere, "But I ain't Big Blue."

_Big blu- Oh, Hank. _A corner of her mouth twitched up, _I guess it _is _kinda true._

"Oh," she blinked in confusion, green gaze fixated on a spot on the floor. "Does that mean I can go?"

"Not a chance, Stripes." He chuckled.

_Stripes? Ugh. _

She felt her eyes roll at his unoriginality, Rogue tore her stare from the ground to look to her 'guard' and nearly had a heart attack on the spot.

_-Best place for it. _A willowy voice chimed in her head, knocking her focus out of balance.

This time she attempted to convey the feeling of rolling her eyes in her head at the snarky psyche.

Back to the original dilemma.

_Why is he here?!_

Shaking her head to clear her it once again- she can vaguely remember having done it sometime earlier- she felt a foreign gaze on her face.

She picked at her blanched hair placing it subtly over her eyes so he couldn't tell she was watching him.

It was kind of awkward, she had to admit. She cringed lightly as her ears picked up the woman's tone again.

_-Yeah, normally it's only you whose doing the staring. _

Rogue felt her brows crease together in annoyance, huffing her hair inadvertently back in place leaving her expression of irritation in plain view.

_Hush up, you old bat._

_-Ha, this is how you treat your elders? I worry for you, child._ The old woman's voice scoffed in her ear.

_No, this is only how I treat you, Demitra._

_-Don't I feel special._

A grin crept on Rogue's face. _You bettah._

The conversation was put to a quick end as a rough flick hit the girl square on the head. Jerking her head upwards she glared, for what felt like the second time that day, at the burly man looking down at her.

Ow.

"What? Can't a girl have a conversation in peace?" She bit out at him.

He stood only two feet from her, just watching her in shock, thinking that this girl was clearly off her rocker to be yelling at him.

He couldn't help but be floored by her easy apathy towards him, it's like she doesn't even know who he is—the mercenary Wolverine. The King of the Cage.

Seeing her again make a face and appear to draw into herself in conversation he added onto his first thought.

Okay, so there's that, and the fact that she seemed to be having a rather engaging talk with herself.

_There must be something wrong with her..._

He felt the beast growl in disapproval of the statement.

_Shut it, ya animal. I didn't ask for your two cents._

"Ah, Rogue." A frazzled Hank called. "How are you feeling?"

The staring contest got put on the back burner –for now- and their attentions were redirected to the doctor at the foot of the room making a hasty approach.

She shrugged, keeping an eye on the Wolverine next to her, "'Bout as good as I can be, Doc."

The blue man came over to examine her looking unsettled, tsking at the IV that was now dripping uselessly onto the floor. "At least turn it off next time."

She hid a smile, looking at him in false outrage, "'Next time'? You plannin' on me getting hurt a lot?"

He paused for a while in his fiddling with the IV drip, glancing to the floor trying to hide his face from her. Hank managed to compose himself just in time and still he drew back, gasping at the thought, "Of course not! Oh, my stars, I would never wish harm upon any of you." Hank shivered. "What horrible thing to sa-"

Hank cut off mid-sentence frowning at her smiling face. "This is no laughing matter, my dear."

Her shoulders rocked in suppressed laughter, a grin lighting up her face as she shook her head. "I'm joking, Hank. Breathe."

He gave her a chastising look, but she saw the small smile that threatened his stern expression before he turned away to get her some water.

Hank gave her the cup, kidding about how he wouldn't mind her stopping by more often, hurt or not.

"It's boring down here, Rogue. I need some fresh air sometimes. Any word from the surface?" He laughed with her, but she noticed that there was a certain tone to it that now worried her.

She stopped in her amusement to give him a concerned look, "You alright, Hank?"

He refused to meet her eyes as he replied his well-being.

_He's hiding something...he's always a stickler for eye-contact._

A throat cleared nearby, jostling their attentions.

Logan stepped forward, a look of confusion juggling annoyance on his features as he walked up to them.

Rogue stopped the little plastic cup half way to her lips to face him dropping the problem with Hank for the time being. She raised an eyebrow in curiosity at him. Now of a clearer mind she thought of the words to ask her question, preventing him from beginning his rant. "Why are you here exactly?"

His shoulders tensed and his lip twitched into a grimace, "I'm kinda wondering the same thing."

With both similarly cocked brows and puzzled expressions the two turned to Hank, who was now across the room shuffling about nervously, trying to avoid the questions asked.

"_Hank."_

"But I-" He frowned to himself, "I don't think either of you will particularly like what I have to say."

"Hank, for God's sake, man. Spit it out."

He sighed, gazing solemnly to Rogue, conveying his apology before he had anything to be sorry for. Hank shook his head, determined now to get it over with, "Okay, well you see, Rogue, our big friend here seemed to have asked you your age last night." He didn't have to explain further. She'd get it.

Logan, on the other-hand, now had more questions, "Hold it, what does that have to do with anything?"

Understanding dawned in her eyes, "So the psyche's, I'm assuming as they always do, got a little too rowdy to answer him?" She expanded as if it answered for everything.

He nodded gently, almost afraid to continue, "Yes, but, you see. This time was different."

Rogue gave him a look as if to say '_What do you mean, _different_?'_

Logan watched to two of them back and forth wondering just what the Hell secret code they were talking in.

Psyches? What are they and what do they have to do with what happened?

He tried to open his mouth to demand an explanation, feeling so out of the picture that he couldn't even find the frame anymore.

"He-" Logan started.

"I mean that..." Hank went on, not even seeming to notice Logan's attempt at his own clarification.

He was ignored...has he ever mentioned how much he hates to be ignored?

"You know how when they try for control, they usually settle soon after." At her nod, Hank continued hesitantly, all former doctor indifference lost. "This time, they didn't. Settle, I mean.

"They rampaged, I had to keep an eye on the brain monitor the entire time and they were unusually active for the majority of your time unconscious. They even managed to keep up their energy during the whole expedition. I'm not sure how, but it seems like they've found a way to siphon your energy—which is most likely what kept you out and them up."

Rogue slumped in her seat, blinking heavily at nothing, "So...what?" At his face of concern, it clicked. "They're...They're getting stronger?"

_How did it get to this?_

She couldn't help but to think of how the nightmare memories now brought physical pain and how the voices had gradually gotten louder...

_-It's true. _Demitra called out, sounding smug.

Hank squatted in front of her, placing a hand on her shoulder comfortingly as she reached a hand up to the side of her head in pain.

He didn't have to answer.

Meanwhile, a bitterly oblivious Logan just stood there, watching the exchange in disbelief.

_So what? The girl fainted...they're blowing this whole thing way out of proportion._

* * *

**Heeey, again. I'm back. Decided to try to draw up a storyline for this- warning, I'm no good at it, beware of plot holes- if you feel like anything is left too open and unanswered. Tell me. It helps.**

**I know weird chapter. It feels rushed to me...but understand that she and Hank have been going through these motions for a while now. Logan's the only one without a clue.**

**Ask me anything you don't understand- Dudes, and dudettes please.**

**If there's anything you guys would think would be cool to see, mention it. I'll see what I can do -Psst- greenskinned, this is how you help me get to that point of 'loooong story' -wink, wink-**

**I've realized that I'm not going to make this rely heavily on the movie plots-as many of you may have noticed- A lot of it will be explained...but for now- **

**-Scott's alive.**

**-Jean's, obviously, dead. Probably not coming back, I really hate her. **

**-The Prof. I'm debating...if you guys want him in here I'll save him, but if not...I can make either work.**

**Thank you to all of my beautiful reviewers, I love you all so much! So great, all of you. And my favorite-ers and followers, you all have my love.**

**So, you know what you should do? Continue with your love! Cause I need it...and you want to...you know you do.**

**Byee,**

_**I-V**_


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